


Such a Perfect Day

by firefly124



Series: Seasons of Love [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Reader-Insert, background implied pre-Destiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-16 07:30:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14159820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firefly124/pseuds/firefly124
Summary: You and Sam decide to do some work on your garden, and it turns into a bit more of a project than planned.





	Such a Perfect Day

**Author's Note:**

> Follows [He’s Around](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13678929) but can be read as a stand-alone. Written for [thing-you-do-with-that-thing](thing-you-do-with-that-thing.tumblr.com)’s [Seasons of Love: Bloom of Spring challenge](http://thing-you-do-with-that-thing.tumblr.com/post/170979694182/seasons-of-love-challenge-bloom-of-spring) to the prompt: [Strawberry Swing](https://open.spotify.com/user/f5ocm9hfaq7hmpa6ha0rjdv0v/playlist/06MmPeHCJVrBO5m0GScdAW) by Coldplay. Title comes from the song. Many thanks to [imjusttootired](http://imjusttootired.tumblr.com) for beta-reading!

You sneak out of bed at the crack of dawn, careful not to disturb Sam. When you shift your weight to your feet and the mattress moves slightly, he rolls over to where you’ve just been. You pull the covers up over his shoulders and he pulls your pillow close, burying his face in it and snuffling adorably.

With a smile, you grab a set of clothes and tiptoe out to get changed in the bathroom, splash a bit of water on your face, and brush your teeth. The sun is already beginning to peek in between and around the curtains. You’re glad you and Sam made sure the bedroom had no east-facing windows when you bought the house. He may wake on his own, but at least it won’t be to a face full of sun.

Stopping briefly in the kitchen, you grab your water bottle and fill it with iced coffee left over from yesterday, and slip out the door.

The air is still chilly this early in the morning, but it just helps wake you up a bit as you sip at your iced coffee and head for the shed to grab some tools. There’s not much to see in the garden yet; all you’ve planted so far is your potatoes and carrots. For now, you’re just going to weed around them, but you’re thinking you’ll start turning over the soil to transplant your radishes and lettuce. 

Weeding, such as it is this early in the season, is done quickly, and you shift your attention to the rows you’ve set aside for the seedlings germinating in your kitchen. This is the good stuff, you think. Justification for playing in the dirt. Sure, you use a hoe to break up the dirt at first, but it’s not like it’s sod. Once that’s done, you get right in there with a little hand rake and make sure the soil is well-turned and aerated.

You hear the front door click, but don’t turn your head. Let Sam think he’s being sneaky.

“So, what’s next?” he asks from behind you. “Strawberries?”

“Nah,” you reply, finally turning to look up at him. “Gonna give them another week or so. Besides, we’ve got some hardier seedlings that need to come out first.”

He smiles over the mug he’s holding. You wonder if he got any more real sleep after all, since he obviously took the time to brew the hot stuff. He looks rested, though, his eyes bright and clear unlike when he’d arrived yesterday.

This had been a long stretch. He and Dean had chased several cases one after the next for almost five weeks. On the bright side, while he’d been exhausted when he arrived, he hadn’t been anywhere near as wrecked as last time. Your reunion had been a whole different kind of intense, and you thoroughly approved.

“You know I wouldn’t mind helping with that,” he says.

“You did plenty of digging the last time you were home,” you say with a wink. “I’ll let you help with the actual seedlings after breakfast.”

His smile widens at that, and you turn back to your work so he won’t see your heart break a little. You know how much it means to him to do something that’s about life instead of death, which is a good thing. The part that kills you is that you know he’s going to be back out there in another day or week, whenever the next hunt comes in. You’re determined not to dwell on that, though. You want to just enjoy today for as long as it lasts.

“Is that a hint for me to get breakfast started?” he asks. 

“I wouldn’t complain,” you reply, turning to look up at him again. “As long as you don’t set the kitchen on fire again.”

“That was one time!” he protests, and you just laugh. 

He squats down next to you and gives you a coffee-flavored kiss before turning to go back inside. You watch him go, beltless jeans hanging low on his hips. 

Yeah, this is going to be a great day.

~*~

Between you, you’ve managed to plant all the radishes and lettuce, and it’s not even noon. You have soil caked under your fingernails and probably smeared on your face, too, and you’ve never been happier. Somehow, Sam has managed to keep just about everything other than his hands pretty clean.

“You know what I was thinking?” you ask.

“What?” he turns to look at you.

“I was thinking it would be cool to have one of those old-fashioned swings right there.” You point at a stretch of grass beyond the garden. “It’d be nice for us to be able to just sit and chill out here come summer.”

Sam looks where you’re pointing and then back to the garden. “Wouldn’t that cast shadow on the plants?”

“I think it’s far enough over not to make a big difference,” you reply. “If we get one with a canopy, it should be collapsible, though, so it’s not just up all the time. That way it won’t have much shadow to cast unless we’re actually using it.”

You’re surprised to have that answer so ready. You honestly hadn’t thought about this, at least not consciously, until right this minute. You wonder why it suddenly feels like something really important to do.

He frowns thoughtfully. “We could do that. Have you seen something like that?”

“No,” you admit, “but that’s what the internet is for.”

He laughs. “Guess I know what we’re doing this afternoon, then.”

“Or we could go wander around home-and-garden shops,” you add with a shrug. “More fun than staying cooped up with the computer indoors.”

“What, our wi-fi doesn’t cover the yard?” he asks.

“I haven’t tested it. Due to not having any place to really sit and use it.”

“Touché.” He grins. “Okay, let’s do that, then.”

~*~

You’re not sure what you expected, dragging him out to the store on a Saturday afternoon. Of course it’s crowded, and of course he draws attention. You’d driven to Manhattan, so at least you wouldn’t be too likely to run into anyone that might recognize either of you. You’re not worried, exactly. More annoyed by the appraising looks he gets from the soccer moms (and occasional soccer dad).

It’s not that you’re jealous. You know he’s not interested in any of them. It really is more annoyance. He should get to spend an afternoon shopping without people eyeing him up like a cut of meat. (And all right, there’s a small dash of “if anyone’s going to be looking at him like that, it’s going to be me,” dammit.)

He’s either oblivious to the attention or just used to it; he’s not phased by it at all. So you focus your attention on the selection of swings and other lawn furniture this box store has, which isn’t all that different than the last couple. Nothing you’ve seen so far looks anything like what you had in mind. There are a few of the wooden swings that are close, but they all have either no canopy or a solid wooden one which, Sam’s right, would cast too much shadow on the garden. You also don’t want to _not_ have the option of some cover, or the swing will be useless in the Kansas summer.

There are tons of swings without canopies. There are plenty of swings with canopies. But most of them are either super-modern and look like they belong in Better Homes and Gardens or else really chintzy-looking. You’d rather give up on the idea and just use folding chairs if that was going to be your only option.

“Pretty much the same, huh?” Sam says.

“Yeah.” You sigh. “Maybe we should’ve stuck with online.”

“Maybe.” He shrugs. “Can’t always be sure what it’ll look like in person, though.”

“True. That papa-san-chair-looking one probably would’ve looked cool online.” It had actually looked pretty cool in person, too, but the way it sloped inward, it would never work for the both of you. Not without giving Sam a crick in his neck. And it still wasn’t really what you wanted.

Sam, of course, won’t cop to liking anything in particular, though you saw the way he’d looked at that one that was more of a hammock. You are totally coming back when he leaves on the next hunt. It’s inexpensive enough and collapsible, and you could totally imagine snoozing in it some lazy afternoon with him. But you definitely still want a real swing.

He runs a hand over the metal armrest of one of the floor models and looks at it thoughtfully. This one’s wooden, not hollow metal like most of them. It’s solid. Sturdy. No canopy, though, retractable or otherwise, and at some point that became a complete deal-breaker for you.

“I could probably build one,” he says as he traces his fingers along the joins in the wood. “That way we could get it just the way we want it.”

“You’ve been holding out carpentry skills on me?” you ask with a coy smile. Sure, he seems to be able to pick up anything he sets his mind to, but if this is something he already knows, it’s news to you.

“Not really.” He takes his hand back from the wooden swing and runs his fingers through his hair. “Mostly I’ve just fixed things. Haven’t built anything from scratch since the occasional shop class. Dean did a stint as a carpenter though.”

“Seriously?” You scrunch up your forehead trying to picture it. “I mean, he likes working with his hands, but I guess I wouldn’t have made the leap from fixing cars to building stuff. There’s probably lots of tools we don’t have.”

An image of the two of them sawing at a two-by-four with a machete most recently used for decapitating vampires runs through your head. That would be deeply unlikely to end well.

“There might be some stuff in storage,” he says carefully. “We could go check?”

“Sounds like as good an idea as any,” you agree. “Should we grab something to bring for lunch?”

“I’ll check and see whether he and Cas have anything planned.” Sam pulls out his phone and taps out a quick text.

Privately you think that’s also wise to be sure you don’t show up when they were expecting to have the bunker to themselves. As far as Sam can tell, they’re still dancing around actually dealing with their (glaringly obvious) feelings for each other, but you never know when they might finally manage it. And once that UST breaks, you figure they’ll need the bunker to themselves for a solid week. (Since that would leave you with Sam to yourself for that week, you have absolutely no problem with that scenario.)

“There’s a request for us to stop at ‘Freddy’s Frozen Custard and Steakburgers.’” Sam quirks an eyebrow at the phone, as if he thinks Dean can see him.

“Of course, there is.” You chuckle. “Long as he doesn’t think frozen custard is actually going to survive the drive.”

Actually, that makes you realize just how late you’ll be getting back. Too late to call it lunch, too early to call it dinner. But then, neither of them have been big on eating at typical times. Sam settles into a routine with you once he’s home for a day or two, but you don’t suppose he’d do so left to his own devices.

“Maybe we should stop somewhere for our own lunch first,” you suggest. “Then we can bring the burgers and call them dinner?”

Sam looks surprised at the suggestion but agrees quickly, firing off another quick text.

“Fire and Ice?” he asks once he’s finished and shoved the phone back in his pocket.

You grin. The two of you had gone there for dinner once a few months ago, and it had been great. “Sounds good to me. So long as we get something that’s not burgers.”

~*~

It’s late by the time you get to the bunker. It stays light longer these days, but the sun is definitely low in the sky. It had been a good idea, strategically, to go all the way to Manhattan. It was at least a little closer than Wichita. But it was still a seriously long drive. You think maybe next time sticking with online shopping will be the way to go.

You look over at Sam and smile. No, this was better. Being out and looking at things together was definitely better than crowding together to peer at a computer monitor. Besides, a day like this was meant for spending as much of it outdoors as possible, even if several hours of that ended up being on the road.

Sam parks your car in the garage and grabs two of the three bags of burgers and fries. You grab the remaining one and follow him into the bunker.

“Dean?” he calls out once you reach the main hallway. “Cas?”

“Is that the dinner bell?” comes Dean’s reply as he pokes his head out of his room.

You laugh. “Once we get these heated back up, yeah.”

Dean steps into the hall and makes grabby hands at Sam, who shakes his head and hands over his two bags. “I’ve got the perfect system.”

“Of course you do,” Sam says.

Dean pops everything into the oven except the fixings for the hamburgers, taking care to spread out the fries on their sheet pan. Once he has everything set the way he wants it, he sets the ancient timer on the back of the stove and turns around.

“So, what got you crazy kids to go to Manhattan in the first place?” he asks.

You and Sam take turns explaining what you’d been looking for, what you’d actually found, and finally Sam’s idea to build it. Dean’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline.

“You have any idea how to do that, Sammy?” he asks.

Sam shrugs. “Figured you could talk me through it.”

Dean laughs. “Yeah, okay. But we’re gonna need a lot of …”

“Tools, right. That’s the plan for after dinner,” Sam interrupts. “See what the Men of Letters kept from building this place in that storage room.”

“You think any of it would still be any good?” Dean asks.

“Plenty of other stuff here still works that shouldn’t.”

“True that.” The timer goes off, and Dean pulls everything out of the oven. He shoos you and Sam to go set the table while he starts arranging plates.

Cas wanders in from the library.

“Hey, Cas,” Sam says.

“Hello, Sam,” Cas replies. “Hello, Y/N.”

“Hiya, Cas,” you say. “What have you been up to?”

Cas looks back over his shoulder. “I have been translating and correcting several of the Men of Letters’ reference books.”

“None written in a language that starts with a letter earlier than H, right?” you ask. “’Cause I’m working on digitizing the Hebrew section already.”

You really, really didn’t want to have to re-scan any of the fragile Babylonian stuff.

“I remember.” He smiles gently. “I am currently working on the Sanskrit collection. I believe it will be preferable to review some of the older items in their digital form, to avoid causing damage to them.”

“Dinner’s on!” Dean calls from behind you, bringing two of the plates over; he places one at your usual seat and the other at Cas’. “Sammy, you probably wanna dump half a salad on yours, so I’ll let you do that.”

“Jerk,” Sam mutters as he turns to go back into the kitchen.

“Bitch,” Dean replies half-heartedly as he goes back to grab his own plate (which has suspiciously more fries than either your or Cas’ plates).

Cas shakes his head disapprovingly and shoots you a look. You shrug. This little ritual of theirs is their thing. 

Once you’re all seated, Dean asks, “So, other than driving halfway across the state for nothing, what have you two crazy kids been up to today?”

~*~

After dinner (and the inevitable squabble over the dishes), you all trek downstairs to the storage room. Cas had argued that he could see better than any of you (true enough) and also that if left to your own devices, the three of you would probably end up pinned under a toppled piece of furniture or shrunk to thimble-size by some random spell (also probably true). He’s also fascinated with the project and asks you all sorts of questions.

“So the goal of this project is purely recreational?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you reply. “It’ll be nice to sit outside and enjoy the garden. But I want to make sure the canopy won’t cast too much shadow, or at least not all the time, so that the plants don’t get stunted. That’s why none of the ones in the stores were any good.”

“That is an important consideration,” he agrees. “Have you considered setting up a beehive somewhere nearby?”

“I’m sure plenty of bees will find their way,” you say. “Although with what they’re saying about the bees being in trouble, maybe? Not sure I’d be up for actually collecting the honey, though. I think I’d need to know a lot more about it.”

“Maybe next year,” Sam suggests. “This is already a pretty big project.”

“Here we are.” Dean opens the door to the storage room and turns on the light. It smells about as musty as you’d expected it would. He and Sam have both gone tense, as if they expect a monster to come roaring out. Nothing does, however, and you see both of them relax.

“That works,” you say flatly, looking at the light fixture overhead as you step inside. You give Sam’s hand a squeeze but then let it go again. He’ll feel safer with both hands free, and frankly, so will you. “Do you guys even need to change your lightbulbs in this place?”

“Not so far,” Sam replies.

You shake your head. The room isn’t huge, but it is large enough for the four of you to each take a wall and scour it, though with stern warnings from Cas not to touch anything. Your wall is disappointingly boring. It holds a selection of brooms, mops, and rakes securely clamped in place, each with its own spot. Next to them, a series of hooks hold various shovels, a couple of axes, and an impressive array of spiderwebs.

Amazingly, Dean finds an old-fashioned saw and a box that has several different sizes of chisels, something that looks like a hand-cranked drill, and a bunch of calipers and clamps that you have no idea what you’d even do with. Considering the crowded shelves on his wall, you think it’s pretty impressive he picked it out that quickly.

“This should be enough to get you started, Sammy,” Dean says. “Though I think a power drill and a circular saw would be good investments.”

You look at one of the shelves next to where Dean had found the toolbox. It’s filled with boxes, some of which look like safes. “How did you know which box to go for? Some of these are probably curse boxes, right?”

“The drawers were the big clue,” he replies with a grin. 

“I do not believe these are curse boxes,” Cas says. “I do not sense any sort of warding. More likely these are more boxes of supplies that the Men of Letters no longer had frequent need for.”

You were curious what in the heck those might be. The room was pretty big, after all, even if the four of you were a bit squished. What did they really need to store in here?

“My wall looks like it mostly has lab equipment,” Sam says. “We’ll have to catalog all this at some point, so we know what we’ve got. Could be handy.”

“Okay, nerd, you get right on that,” Dean says with a chuckle. 

You roll your eyes at them. Sometimes you wonder how they ever manage to get anything done when they’re together.

Cas insists on waiting until the rest of you exit the room first before following after, shutting off the light and closing the door.

“Thought you didn’t sense any spellwork in there,” Dean says.

“There’s spellwork woven into every wall and surface of this bunker,” Cas replies. “I said I did not sense the sort of warding typically used in curse boxes. That does not mean that there could not be some other trap that we might inadvertently trigger.”

“I’m gonna run these to the car,” Sam says. “Meet you in the library?”

You nod in reply and walk back towards the library with Dean and Cas while Sam turns off to go to the garage.

“That’s a nice, domestic project you two have going,” Dean observes.

He doesn’t look upset, or like he’s teasing. You shrug.

“That is the goal,” you say. “Step back to the research side of hunting and actually enjoy life for a bit.”

“Didn’t say it was a bad thing.” He looks thoughtful. So does Cas.

You decide to leave them to their thoughts and walk the rest of the way to the library in companionable silence.

When Sam comes in to meet you, he looks a bit nervous. He’s got his laptop, which wasn’t in your car, so he must’ve swung by his room.

“Did the toolbox come to life or something?” you ask.

“What? No.” He chuckles. “Just realizing that next we need some idea what to get for supplies.

“And that’s what we’re gonna figure out,” Dean says. 

“I believe my time will be better spent resuming my prior work.” Cas nods to the neat pile of books and papers on the other table. “But if I can be of assistance, please just let me know.”

“Definitely.” Dean clapped a hand on his shoulder, letting it rest there a little longer than strictly necessary. 

Sam clears his throat.

“Right, so supplies. First we need to get a set of plans together,” Dean says. “I never really did this part of it, so why don’t we start by pulling up some online examples.”

“Thought you might say that.” Sam sets the laptop on the table and boots it up. He runs a quick search and you start pointing out the things you do and don’t want while Dean takes notes.

~*~

By the time you’ve got a decent sketch worked up and a list of materials to shop for, you are yawning your head off. Not that it’s far, but you really don’t feel like bothering to drive home, even if Sam takes the wheel. So you both say good night to Dean and Cas and head to Sam’s room.

It’s so Spartan aside from the television, you wonder if this has ever felt like home to him. You think about how little of him is really visible back at the house. Maybe that’s why you want the swing. All the other furniture, you’d already had before you met Sam. Sure, he’d helped choose the house when you moved here, but you’d hardly know it to look at it.

Something to work on.

You grab one of his t-shirts which will work just fine as a nightgown on you. Your toothbrush is in the top drawer of his bureau, so you grab that too and head to the bathroom. When you get back, Sam heads down for his turn.

You’re not sure why he does that here. It’s a dorm-style bathroom. Plenty of room for multiple people to use it. It wouldn’t even matter if Dean wandered in for tooth-brushing, and Sam has no problem sharing the bathroom at home.

Maybe you’ll ask him about it. Maybe not. Right now, your jaw is trying to dislocate itself with the yawning, so you just toss your dirty clothes in the laundry basket and climb under the covers.

The sheets, at least, are nice and cozy. Sam’s mentioned how much he hates the scratchy sheets he endures in the motels he and Dean often stay at. So apparently this is one indulgence he’s allowed himself here. You’ve noticed before, but it never made quite as much an impression as it’s doing right now. You resolve to get a similar set for the house. Not that your sheets there are uncomfortable, but they’re not quite as luxurious-feeling as these. 

Sam comes back and climbs under the covers with you, planting a minty kiss on your lips. You melt into his arms, but then another yawn interrupts you. Sam chuckles.

“That bad?”

“It’s been a long day,” you say. 

“It has,” he agrees. “A good day though.”

“Almost perfect,” you agree. “Wouldn’t want to change a thing, in fact. But now I’m wiped.”

He brushes a stray lock of hair from your forehead. “Then let’s just get some sleep.”

You nod, then nuzzle into his chest. He does make an excellent pillow, you think with a smile. As you drift off, you find yourself sleepily replaying the day in your mind, from gardening to shopping to planning how to build this swing. It really had been such a perfect day.


End file.
